It rained the whole day he spent at his lover's grave. Said his goodbyes to her family and friends. And packed his things in a rusted car. And rode off in the rain.
Miles of highway poppies. A stretch of maybe flowers past Signal Hill away. We were parked and searching. For a hubcap rolling into the fields of thorn.
On the outskirts of expansion, looking out from Blueprint peak. The flow is flooding of urban settlers panning through rivers running dry.. Numbers roll on in, smiling a lottery grin, a sadness blurs the eye....